


Covert Operations

by inelegantly (Lir)



Series: SWAG 2016 Fills [9]
Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Covert Operation, Espionage, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5949892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touya Akira is a spy. Highly trained. Incredibly competent. Currently in the midst of a mission to retrieve technological intel from inside a Russian embassy building. What Akira <i>isn't</i> prepared for is to run into Hikaru inside the embassy — not Hikaru, fellow member of Akira's agency and a spy who should most definitely not be read in on the same missions as Akira — not when Hikaru stands an enormous chance of blowing their entire joint operation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covert Operations

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [2016 Sports Anime Winter Games](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/9309.html) for a prompt that simply asked for an akihika spy AU. I of course had a blast with that.

-

"Thank you," Akira says, taking a sip from his wine glass which consists of little more than wetting his lips with the beverage. "It's been a very illuminating conversation." 

"Likewise," his companion agrees, gifting Akira with a nod of his head before stepping back into the crowd at the party. 

Inwardly, Akira breathes a sigh of relief. _Illuminating_ is the least he can say about a chat with a man he knows very well is ex-KGB. He isn't the most savory of companions, but Akira needed someone to speak for him in order to get inside the Russian embassy, and their "chance encounter" in the pool hall had been the perfect lead-in for earning an invitation.

After all, Akira always had been good at games. 

It was something his companion had commented about, shooting pool against him. Akira didn't gauge the table nearly as much as he gauged his opponent — it's what makes him skilled at chess, and at Go: knowing how other players think and how to respond. It's what makes him more than talented as a spy. 

He stays where he is, miming sipping at his wine as he watches the bald patch at the back of the man's head bob away through the crowd. The party going on has attracted all sorts of personages whom Akira might recognize better from a watch list than a social calendar, and the last thing he wants to do is give anyone the wrong impression. His patron has had more than a few glasses of wine himself, which means Akira is at last free to excuse himself not simply from the man's company, but also from his immediate vicinity. 

There are many individuals present whom Akira should look out for, but the thing his country is most interested in is technological intel. And where better for diplomats and ex-militants to keep their secrets and their flash drives, than in a building only accessible by bypassing layers of foreign security? 

Or by being let through it, though Akira cannot take all of the credit for that. 

He cuts across the reception hall, giving polite greetings to those individuals he brushes elbows with, imparting shallow little smiles and making certain not to say anything that might embroil him in conversation. The best way to go unnoticed is to blend in; Akira is certain he'd be more obtrusive if he didn't exchange a few words with the other guests. After cutting across the room and lingering beside the refreshments table, he takes the opportunity to duck into a side hallway.

And right into the chest of one of the other guests. 

"I'm sorr—" he starts to say, before his eyes focus on the face of the man he'd collided with just long enough to place it. "Shindou!" 

" _Don't,_ " Hikaru says, slapping a hand over Akira's mouth and glaring at him peevishly. "You idiot." 

" _Me_ the idiot?" Akira protests, just as soon as he's pried Hikaru's fingers away from his mouth. "That's rich, coming from you of all people. What are you _doing_ here?" 

"Business," Hikaru says, as if that should be obvious. "What are _you_ doing here?" 

For a moment Akira simply splutters at the very _idea_ of Hikaru being in the Russian embassy on "business," before shooting back, "I'm the one here on _business,_ unless someone far more important than you got their wires crossed." 

Maddeningly, Hikaru's only response to that is to stick out his tongue, before leveling Akira with another glare. "My, you know," he says, before lowering his voice as he mentally scans over what he's approved to say, in their present environment, "is totally legit, I have the, uh, company's approval to be here just as much as you do. _Probably_ more." 

"Why didn't they tell me this," Akira says, turning away from Hikaru. 

It was no longer worth arguing over which of them has the proper clearance for Russian intelligence-gathering. Akira is familiar enough with the capricious ways of their higher-ups not to doubt the possibility that they'd _both_ been cleared to take part in the same operation — and completely unbeknownst to each other. Chances are, their bosses had planned to keep them entirely separate from each other, a compartmentalized op which they, in their infinite wisdom, had just bungled. 

Which _Hikaru_ had just bungled, because Akira had been proceeding exactly to the terms of his plan. 

"I don't know," Hikaru says, deaf to Akira's internal laments. "Maybe they didn't think you were important enough to be read in, huh?" 

"Please," Akira says, still not looking at Hikaru. "Be quiet." 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hikaru open his mouth to begin the argument again, same as they always do. There was a reason they got assigned so few of the same operations, though even Akira would admit — under pressure — that their joint work is some of the best in his file. He knows that Hikaru is just going to pick another fight with him, but it isn't the _time,_ not when Akira is almost certain he'd heard someone coming down the wrong end of their back hallway.

"I said," Akira repeats, pushing Hikaru up into the alcove around one of the doorways and pressing him into the wall. "Be. Quiet." 

Hikaru is silent — for the moment. His eyes are blown wide above the hand Akira has pressed over his mouth, a curious blend of surprise and building outrage. Akira knows what will happen when that anger hits boiling point, with such familiarity that he immediately grasps for the best means of forestalling it. 

Akira leans a little closer, pressing his hips in against Hikaru's hips, settling his free hand in against Hikaru's waist. His fingers splay out against Hikaru's ribs, detectable through his dress shirt — if only because Akira has slid his hand beneath the fabric of the suit jacket Hikaru is wearing overtop it. He can feel the breaths Hikaru is taking in, slow but shaky, stuttering with his surprise. It's unexpectedly soothing. 

"Someone is moving about down that hall," Akira whispers, so softly the words go no farther than his breath. He tilts his head to the side, indicating where he means with an incline of his chin that causes his hair to swing about his face. "And I don't want them becoming suspicious of us." 

It's at that point that Hikaru thinks to reach up and pry Akira's hand down from his face, wrenching at Akira's arm but keeping the silence Akira has asked for. He glares at Akira a moment, then looks to the side, twisting his head in an attempt to see down the hall. It gets him nowhere. Akira can tell, because when Hikaru turns back toward him his body goes limp with defeat. 

"So are you gonna let go of me?" Hikaru mutters, pushing vaguely at Akira's chest. "Or do you just like slinking in corners?" 

"It isn't that," Akira says. "Rather, I thought that if someone walked by here, we're far less worthy of remarking on, like this." 

He tilts his head again, this time as an indication down between their bodies. Hikaru follows the line of Akira's gaze for a moment, before the implication catches up to him all at once and Akira is forced to slap his hand back over Hikaru's mouth just to choke off the scream building in his throat. 

"We're not," Hikaru starts to mutter, mouth moving against Akira's fingers. "You're just, trying to get one over about the operation! You've done this before, _Touya,_ don't think I don't remember!" 

Akira flushes, and immediately prays that the alcove will be too dark for Hikaru to notice. He remembers, too — a different mission, a different cover, a different compromising situation. It's easiest, to let Hikaru think it was a ploy on Akira's part to improve his standing within that operation. Better that, than letting Hikaru realize that he'd _meant_ it. 

"I'm not," is what Akira says. "In fact, now that we've de-compartmentalized this operation, I suggest we work together. What do you think of that, Shindou?" 

"Hmph," Hikaru huffs, nudging Akira away from him. "What, think I've got the better intel, on the intel?" 

" _Hardly,_ " Akira shoots back. "Is it so hard to believe I think we'll work well together?" 

"A little," Hikaru says. "But since I'm _such a great spy,_ I guess I have to believe you." 

"Don't say that in public," Akira chides, shaking his head as he takes a step away. A stealthy glance down the hall reveals no open doors, no visible event guests. Akira takes Hikaru by the hand, laces their fingers together like he's still playing at being clandestine lovers. "Come on, let's get this over with." 

-

-


End file.
